


My Precious Girl

by DaronwyK



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dubious Consent, F/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 04:06:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15404592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaronwyK/pseuds/DaronwyK
Summary: An innocent request leads to an undeniable obsession.





	My Precious Girl

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [TheSlytherinCabal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSlytherinCabal/pseuds/TheSlytherinCabal) in the [DBQ2018Round4](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DBQ2018Round4) collection. 



> Diverges from Canon during Goblet of Fire.

o.o.O.o.o

 

**_February 12_ ** **_ th _ ** **_, 1995_ **

 

It had begun innocently enough, Barty admitted to himself as he looked down at the witch lying on the floor of his office. Ropes conjured by his _incarcerous_ dug into her soft, pale skin, and a silencing spell muted her screams. He glared at the mirror against the far wall, where the protective covering had slipped and betrayed his secret to this slip of a schoolgirl.

 

Months ago she’d come to his office, eager and determined to learn the secret of throwing off the Imperius Curse. He’d been amused by her insistence and against his better judgement had agreed to give her some private lessons. Barty had been certain a few sessions of abject humiliation under his wand would cure the mudblood of her foolish request; he had been wrong. The little witch had surprised him, never complaining and eventually finding a way to break his hold on her mind. Once she’d managed it the first time, her proficiency had only grown.

 

He turned away from her and gripped the edges of his desk. He felt the painful sensations of the polyjuice potion wearing off, and this time he let it. Silly girl had already seen him in the mirror. Moody’s mirror could see through all manner of enchantments and illusions. He’d always been so careful to ensure it was completely covered, but now it was too late for recriminations. He panted and leaned against the desk as he returned to his own body. Moody’s fake leg fell to the floor with an audible clunk. Straightening, Barty smoothed his hair back from his face, composing himself as much as possible before turning to face her.

 

“My apologies, Miss Granger. Unfortunately, you were never meant to see that.” He crossed the room and knelt. Reaching out, his finger traced along one of the ropes, a dark thrill passing through him at her instinctive flinch. How long had it been since he’d had a witch at his mercy, so completely helpless and alone? This girl was so painfully young and the fear in her eyes was drugging. “I am left with few options now, the easiest being that I obliviate you and remove any memory of these…lessons from your mind. You’re such a curious thing that I fear leaving even a hint of these meetings might return you to this discovery.” He brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek. “I could also kill you, which is somewhat more problematic for me, but certainly not beyond my capabilities. It would be a wretched waste though, as you have so much potential for a mudblood. But perhaps death would be kinder, as it would spare you the horrors to come.”

 

Tenderly, he smoothed her curls off her face. No, killing her would be an unforgivable waste. “Or I could have you swear a wizard’s oath, binding you to secrecy, but it would allow you to maintain your knowledge of me. Our lessons could then continue, and I have so enjoyed our evenings together. It’s rare to find anyone so perfectly suited to soaking up every ounce of knowledge offered. The things I could teach you little witch…such wondrous magic I could show you.” He released the silencing spell, his face hovering near hers. “What is your choice, precious girl?”

 

The witch was shaking, clearly aware of just how much danger she was in. He could practically see her running through her limited options, and then she swallowed nervously. “Are you here to hurt Harry?” she asked, her voice whispery from her screaming bout earlier.

 

“No. I give you my word that I don’t mean to harm a hair on his head.” He grinned a little, unable to help but approve of her loyalty to her friend. Even now, utterly vulnerable and tied up, her first concern was protecting him. Such an unusual creature.

 

“I’ll swear the oath,” she finally agreed.

 

“Excellent choice, precious girl.” He leaned down and kissed her temple, indulging himself that small contact, before moving back to stand and then cancelling the incarcerous spell. The witch’s brown eyes were incredibly wary as she sat up, unable to help rubbing her arm where the magical ropes had cruelly abraded her skin. He imagine that when she undressed tonight there would be lovely bruises crisscrossing her entire body. How he wished he could see them…another time perhaps. He offered her a hand.

 

Stubbornly, she ignored it and scrambled to her feet, never taking her eyes off him. He resisted the urge to chuckle.

 

“Who are you?” she asked, pressing her back against the far wall.

 

“Bartemius Crouch Jr. at your service, Miss Granger.” He gave a mocking bow. “Now, shall we tend to the little matter of your oath?” He held up her wand, offering it to her.

 

“What do you want me to say?” Hermione asked and walked across the room, reaching out to take her wand back from him.

 

“You must swear on your magic not to reveal my identity by any means to anyone until after July the 1st. By then I will be gone from here, and it won’t matter,” he said. “Raise your wand as you speak the words.”

 

Hermione glared at him, but lifted her wand anyway. “I, Hermione Granger, swear on my magic to not reveal the true identity of Bartemius Crouch Jr. by any means, to anyone, until after July the 1st, 1995.” A golden glow flared from her wand, sealing the vow.

 

“Very nicely done, pet.” He grinned. “Now, off to bed like a good little Gryffindor. It wouldn’t do for you to be missed. I’ll expect you back here next Friday evening to continue your lessons. I am so looking forward to them.” The little witch just nodded and fled the room, as if the devil himself were chasing her.

 

o.o.O.o.o

****

**_June 24_ ** **_ th _ ** **_, 1995_ **

 

Something wasn’t right. Hermione watched Harry being hustled away from Cedric’s dead body, by a man he thought he could trust. Her vow prevented her from calling out, but she instead followed, elbowing frantically through the crowds. She knew where Barty was taking him, and while she couldn’t tell anyone about who he really was, nothing in her vow prevented her from protecting Harry herself.

 

She could hear shouting as she approached the office door, and she gripped her wand securely before bursting in. “Get away from Harry!” she shouted, seeing Barty standing there free of his stolen form. Moody’s magical eye and prosthetic leg lay abandoned. She held her wand on him unwaveringly, just as he’d taught her.

 

Barty laughed and in a swift move, he knocked Harry unconscious and his wand was out. “Expelliarmus, incarcerous!” he said in easy succession.

 

Hermione stumbled and fell as the ropes tightened around her. “Damn it!” she cursed.

 

“You’re not quite ready to be dueling Death Eaters, precious girl.” He chuckled and knelt, rolling her onto her back. “I’m afraid I’ll need to leave you like this, so try not to struggle…they’ll only tighten further and I would hate for you to be marked too harshly.”

 

Hermione’s heart was pounding as he leaned down and kissed her temple, an echo of the last time she’d lain on his office floor bound and helpless. His hands ghosted over the ropes, and she tried to twist away from him, only to gasp as they tightened around her.

 

“I did warn you, pet.” He chuckled, a finger teasing over a piece of exposed skin on her midriff where her shirt had ridden up a little in the struggle.

 

“Don’t…” she whispered, resisting the urge to struggle and tighten the ropes even more. Her eyes flicked over to Harry where he lay unconscious on the rug.

 

“As you wish.” He removed his hand. “I’ll be seeing you soon, precious girl.” He stood and gave her one last long look before quickly leaving the room.

 

It felt like forever before Professor Dumbledore and the others arrived, bursting into the room to find them. She was released and bustled off to the hospital wing with Harry. It was only later that she learned that Barty had killed Alastor Moody, leaving his bloody corpse in the trunk that had always stood in the corner of the room. Guilt twisted around inside of her, knowing that her silence was to blame. She was only asked a few rudimentary questions, and she was thankful for it. Most of the attention went to Harry, and she was grateful to be forgotten.

 

o.o.O.o.o

****

**_June 3, 1996_ **

 

Curses were ricocheting off the walls as Barty and the others gave chase to the group of teenagers racing through the Department of Mysteries. His girl was amongst them, throwing spells with abandon and shielding her friend’s backs as much as possible. It had been a year since he’d laid eyes on her, and it had made all the difference. The baby fat had melted away from her face, leaving her looking harder and sharper than he remembered. A strange sensation crawled through his belly as he saw her engage with Antonin. The Russian was hit was a silencing charm, and Barty panicked. He’d taught her that tactic last year, but against Dolohov it was one of the worst things you could do.

 

He fired a lightning quick stunner, dropping the girl a heartbeat before a wash of purple fire roared through the air where she had just been standing. Dolohov snarled at him, having seen him interfere, but he held the man’s dark gaze and shook his head. The witch was his, and he did not want her damaged. Not unless he was the one doing the damaging. He gestured for Dolohov to continue after Potter, and he approached her unconscious form.

 

“ _Incarcerous, enervate.”_ He watched as the magical ropes bound her, and then she came awake with a gasp. Feeling the threatening squeeze of the ropes, she went still and her eyes met his in the dark.

 

“You,” she whispered.

 

“Hello, pet.” He knelt down, stroking some hair off her face. “Don’t ever try that with Dolohov again, or he will kill you. Be very thankful I was close enough to save your hide.” He brushed his thumb over her lips. “I’d be very upset to lose you to such a messy end.”

 

She squeezed her eyes shut, moving her face to the side. She whimpered as the bonds tightened even at that token resistance. “Why are you doing this?”

 

“Because you’re mine, precious girl.” He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers, feeling her tremble under him. “One day, it’ll be just you, me, and these ropes. There is so much I’ll show you and soon,” he whispered into her lips, and then moved back. “Keep still, pet…you’re safer here. Someone will find you...eventually.” He winked and headed off into the darkness, rejoining the hunt for the prophecy.

 

o.o.O.o.o

****

**_December 24_ ** **_ th _ ** **_, 1996_ **

 

He’d expected to find wards of some kind on her home, even something rudimentary. His clever girl had come of age in September and it had been difficult to resist sending her a little gift, but it would have put her on guard. He unlocked her front door and slipped into her house like a ghost. The Dark Lord had been most generous in allowing him this honour. Tonight a blow would be struck against Potter’s base of support, and against the morale of the Order itself. Foolish of them to leave her so exposed and even more careless of her to not have tended to it herself. He’d taught her better than that.

 

Walking through the house, he was confronted by the evidence that the muggles seemed to genuinely love their daughter. There were photographs everywhere and in them he watched his girl grow from a bucktoothed, wild-haired child, into the beautiful young woman he coveted. Barty paused and traced his fingers over one photo of Hermione sitting in the middle of a field of wildflowers, smiling brightly at the camera. It must have been from last summer. He slipped it into his jacket, some strange urge compelling him to take it. A photograph of her in a more innocent time.

 

He was a few steps from the master bedroom, when he felt something hit him from behind. His limbs stiffened and he fell forward hitting the hardwood floor face first. Pain lanced through his face as his nose broke upon impact. He was roughly turned over and he was treated to the sight of his prize standing over him. She was wearing flannel pajamas, with little kittens on them. There was an intense look on her face as she held her wand on him, hard and unflinching. A swell of pride filled him. ‘That’s my girl,’ he thought.

 

“ _Incarcerous,”_ she said and ropes tightened around him, her nimble fingers found his wand and she blinked at it. Tentatively she stroked her fingers along its length, lingering over it before settling it aside. A precise wand movement released the petrificus curse, but kept him tightly bound.

 

Barty began to laugh. “Clever witch, what did you use to alert you?” he asked, rather curious.

 

“You told me once wards practically begged to be challenged, and a more subtle approach is best when you want to be unnoticed,” she said.

 

“You used blood runes.” He closed his eyes and just smiled. “So, precious girl, what’s your plan now? I doubt your parents will like you having a man tied up in your closet, though it might be fun,” he drawled.

 

“My parents aren’t here, and you’ll never find them. Not you, or anyone else,” Hermione said and approached.

 

In a sudden move, she was straddling his waist with that strange look passing through her eyes again. With surprise and no small amount of amusement, he realized it was desire. Barty shifted, testing the ropes and hissing as they cut into his flesh. She’d cast the spell perfectly, but then what else would you expect from the brightest witch of the age. He couldn’t really complain, turn-about was fair play after all.

 

Hermione’s fingertips ghosted over his face, and then she leaned down to kiss him. Her lips were incredibly soft, and she didn’t seem to mind the blood spicing their kiss as she deepened it. For endless nights, he’d dreamed about this witch and what she would taste like under his mouth. Never in all those varied fantasies had she ever been like this; hot and vibrant, burning him up like an incendio spreading under his skin. He moaned into her lips at the delicate shift of her hips against him.

 

She broke the kiss and brushed her lips against his ear. “That was for saving my life, but if you ever tie me up again, you better make sure I never get free.” Hermione moved back off him. “I’m sure someone will find you…eventually.”

 

Barty howled with laughter as the saucy witch had the gall to wink at him. For the first time in his life, Barty truly knew how the Dark Lord felt every time Potter thwarted his plans. He’d been ambushed and disarmed by a schoolgirl, and Merlin it just made him want her all the more. One day she’d be his, no matter what he had to do or who he had to kill to make it happen.

 

~Fin

  



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